


Horror Movie Marathon

by WinchesterWarrenSon



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Dark Comedy, Gen, Halloween, Holiday Fic Exchange, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWarrenSon/pseuds/WinchesterWarrenSon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the DBZ FF Exchange on Tumblr. Yamcha may have fallen to the Saiyans and bit off more than he could chew with the Androids, but as one of the world's strongest fighters, he's more than enough to take on a neighborhood serial killer. It also helps that Yamcha is secretly a horror movie nerd and that said serial killer thinks they're Scream Franchise material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horror Movie Marathon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiritbathbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritbathbomb/gifts).



> I hope you like it, spiritbathbomb! Can't bring myself to write Yamcha/Tenshinhan, but I hope it makes up for it!

The morning started out as usual. The October air was brisk and cool as Yamcha walked outside to grab the newspaper out front. He then took it back into the house and sat at the kitchen table. Puar was busy with the coffee machine, waiting for the brown brew to finish. Yamcha unfolded the newspaper and read the front page. 

"Holy crap!" Yamcha said, eyes widened as he took in the title on the front page. 

"What is it, Yamcha?" Puar asked, floating over, her tail twitching a bit. 

"There was a double homicide last night!" 

"Oh dear...." 

Puar hovered over Yamcha's shoulder to see the picture accompanying the article. Yamcha read out loud. 

"'A married couple was found murdered last night. Authorities could find no weapon at the scene, but evidence suggests that they were first knocked unconscious, then had their body parts removed while they were' - still alive?!" 

"Ew! Ew ew ew! That's terrible!" 

"Intestines were taken from the man, and a heart was taken from the woman. Damn....! And they're currently unable to find a motive? There are some real pieces of work out there, Puar." 

"Yeah.... Those poor people...." 

Yamcha frowned as he kept reading the article. Something felt . . . well, oddly familiar about the incident, but he couldn't put his finger on what. 

It wasn't until later in the day that he had listened to the news report about the same incident that he realized why it sounded familiar. A witness had been found to describe the activity around the house of the dead couple earlier in the day that they had been killed. 

"I had seen a man dressed up in a really weird get-up walk away from their home. They were a couple really involved in theatre, so I had just assumed that it was some kind of costume for a play they were doing. Maybe it is, I don't know. But it was all black with a helmet on. Like a hazmat suit," said the witness. 

Yamcha quickly got up and grabbed a DVD on his shelf. Repo! the Genetic Opera. On the cover was a man dressed in a dark leather suit that resembled a hazmat suit slightly. On the cover, it was red, but in the film, it was black. Yamcha looked back at the television, listening to the last of the broadcast. 

"No way.... But it goes with the movie. Missing organs...." 

Could someone be imitating the Repo Man? But why? He didn't exactly get a happy ending.... 

It technically wasn't a serial killing case yet, but Yamcha was already thinking about the potential attacks and stolen organs that could happen as the result of imitating the Repo Man. The ideas were not pleasant. 

He had to stay focused on the baseball game coming up that weekend, but the murder stayed in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the week. 

His team won the baseball match, but the victory was overshadowed by another murder in the paper. 

Yamcha had been expecting something to do with eyes or faces being taken, but now he was just baffled. 

A young woman was found with a _bear trap_ clamped around her head. But there weren't any bear traps in Repo! the Genetic Opera. That was in the first Saw movie. 

Saw I. Repo! the Genetic Opera. While not quite the same genre, they were both definitely horror movies. 

The news report didn't seem to think the two murders were related, but Yamcha looked at his horror movie collection. 

"Oh crap. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap...." 

If this murderer was a horror movie fan, he had literally hundreds of ways to kill people to choose from. It was possible he had been in the paper plenty times before, but was only just now getting noticed because of the extremity of picking from Repo! and Saw to imitate murders from.... 

Before jumping to too many conclusions, Yamcha went to the computer to do some research, seeing if his idea had any merit when comparing police cases over the years. Or even just in this year. 

In this year, there really wasn't anything other than what had just happened this week and last week. The beginning weeks of October. But the year before, there was an increase in murders per month in October, and the year before that. Yamcha compared and contrasted the descriptions of those murders, their locations in the immediate Metro West area and how far away they were from the city limits and how that coincided with the murders they were imitating from the movies. 

Yamcha stopped feeling like he was losing his mind when he realized that even the most "simple" of the murders in Octobers past matched serial killer movie murders almost to a T. 

So he wasn't jumping to conclusions, this was a real thing that was probably happening right now. 

He then tried to find out if he'd be able to find out what each victim had in common from the computer. He didn't have too much luck with most of them, but a few of them were the same age as each other and attended the same summer camp. But that could've just been in line with wanting to imitate Friday the 13th or Sleepaway Camp.

Ultimately, Yamcha didn't have much luck on that end. But then a light bulb went off in his head. He called Krillin up. 

"Hey, Krillin! You got that job at the police station nowadays, right?" 

"Yeah, I do. What's up?" 

"Can I meet with you in person to talk something out?" 

"Uh, sure." 

Yamcha met up with Krillin outside of a coffee shop, Krillin holding a coffee cup in his hand and drinking from it as they talked standing beside Krillin's police motor-scooter. 

"Holy crap, you were able to find all that out just by looking at public records?" 

Yamcha nodded. "I know it's a hunch and that I can't really find much evidence to connect them to a specific person or even the same murderer, but there's something to it, right?" 

"Yeah, I'd say there is. I can look into it for you and see what I can find. I've got access to more private records, and if they're not high profile murders, it won't be too hard to access them and see if your idea holds any water." 

"Thanks, Krillin. I owe you one." 

It took some time, but Krillin eventually got back with him. It may have technically been against the rules for Krillin to discuss police work with Yamcha, but Krillin wasn't actually on the Repo! imitation murders or the Saw copycat case, so he wasn't held to silence by his boss about the cases. And he trusted Yamcha not to go blabbing to just anybody. It was Yamcha after all, they had been through so much together, including the Androids, Cell, and the Saiyan invasion. If he couldn't trust Yamcha (or Goku or Tenshinhan or Piccolo), who could he trust? 

"Okay, so . . . your theory holds quite a bit of water, actually." 

"It does!?" 

"Yeah! Okay, so almost all of the cases I looked at actually do have a person in common. They met this person in so many different scenarios that they never ever met each other, but over the years, each of the victims interacted with someone by the name of Regan Loomis." 

"Regan? Loomis?" 

"Yup, the first time she shows up is as a witness to the murders at that summer camp." 

"That . . . can't be her real name, can it?" 

"Why do you ask?" 

"Well, Regan is the name of the girl in The Exorcist, and Loomis is the last name of the psychiatrist in John Carpenter's Halloween." 

"If it's not her real name, then that's actually more support for her being the killer, what with your theory." 

Yamcha nodded. 

"Is there any way you can get a warrant to check her house or whatever?" 

"Unfortunately, she doesn't live in Metro West. She lives just outside of the city limits. Nothing I can do as an officer unless you have actual proof that she has dead bodies on property or something." 

"All right. Thanks for your help, Krillin." 

"Don't mention it. But hey, if you do anything about it, be careful, okay? I know you can handle yourself, I just . . . don't want you to get hurt." 

Yamcha nodded, giving Krillin a confident smile. 

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll be careful." 

Krillin smiled back, and they bid each other goodbye and a promise to hang out later, with 18 and Marron.

Yamcha then looked up Regan Loomis's address and made his plans.

Krillin had a good point that if he didn't have the kind of evidence that would get the police involved, there was no absolute guarrantee that Regan Loomis was even really involved. So he wasn't going to do anything irrational or anything like that. He was just going to look around, see what he could find, and if he could prove without a doubt that Regan Loomis was the killer, then he would officially do something about it. Let Krillin know, keep her from going anywhere. Get super involved if something bad happens, like he catches her in the act. He can't just let her kill someone. That would be wrong, and also super cowardly. 

While Yamcha had a lot of fears and anxieties, he knew it was unforgivable to just _let_ someone die. 

Almost a week from the last murder, Yamcha headed out to where Regan Loomis lived and set up his scouting spot. She lived in a wooded area, though it wasn't exactly a forest. He set up a little camping site not too far away from the house but enough to not be literally on the private property. He hoped, anyway. 

He had a video camera and a photo camera with him, with extra batteries for both. He also had a lot of instant coffee, a kettle, and material to make a fire with. Packaged food, like nuts and dried fruit and Chex Mix, were in his bag. It wasn't too different from the way he had eaten while he was living with Puar in the desert. Small, dehydrated, and easy to carry on you. It would be enough to last him to the morning after tomorrow. 

Basically, he camped and watched the house while making it look like he wasn't watching the house. He had reading material and got up and walked around the woods. He basically made a circle around the property, carrying his binonculars on him. He pretended to be scouting out the wildlife and plantlife when he was actually trying to get a good look at the house. It looked like a pretty ordinary, two story house, from what he could see. The backyard was unclean and cluttered with different vehicles and a building: one of those big white vans, a boat, a bicycle, and a small shed. It looked like the boat hadn't been driven for a long time. 

His camera was in his vest pocket as he house-watched. His clothes were that of a typical camper who also did bird-watching. 

The first day was a half-day, and he didn't see any activity. At all. Wherever Regan was, it wasn't home. This either meant she was out working or . . . already killing someone and he was bad at calculations. Or Regan wasn't as to the dot as Yamcha had thought. He wasn't sure exactly how methodical and pattern-oriented serial killers were supposed to be, pathologically speaking. Maybe going at it from a pathologized standpoint was a bad idea.... 

He was starting to maybe regret his decision, but he was already out there. 

He ended up going to sleep, his photo camera and video camera still on him as he slept in his sleeping bag, the fire put out. 

He woke to the sounds of twigs crunching beneath feet. He sat up abruptly, and his forehead collided with something. 

Both of them yelled in pain, Yamcha grabbing his forehead. 

He opened his eyes and lowered his hand to see a woman who was actually rather small. That already messed with the idea that she was the same person who was in the Repo Man get-up. The Repo Man had been at least six foot.... This woman couldn't have been any taller than Chichi. 

"H-hey, uh, good morning!" Yamcha said, forcing a smile. "You kinda scared me! What's up?" 

The woman rubbed her forehead, frowning. 

"What're you doing out here?" 

"I - I - uh - I - !" 

It was then that Yamcha remembered. 

He was still afraid of women. Bulma, Chichi, 18, and Videl were the only women he was really able to interact with. And their daughters. This - this wasn't good. 

Yamcha took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut and stammered out the answer. 

"I'm just camping! I'm a bird-watcher and, uh, other wildlife watcher and - and stuff! Ha ha! See, I've got all this camera stuff and - and I didn't want to be too far from the city in case it was an emergency, you see! Ha! Ha ha ha! Hah...!" 

He opened his eyes to see how she was taking that answer. She was frowning, but she didn't look confused. 

"Well, you're on my private property. It doesn't end for another six feet in that direction." 

She pointed closer to the city. 

Damn, that was a lot of personal property. Was it not very good land, or was Regan Loomis secretly rich? This _was_ Regan, right? 

"Uh, sorry! About that! Ha ha - ! I'll move six feet that way then! Ha ha! Uh, I'm Yamcha! W-what's your name?" 

She was quiet for a long moment, then she spoke. 

"I'm Regan." 

She didn't give a last name, but that had to be her. She lived there and was named Regan, so her last name had to be Loomis. 

She watched as Yamcha moved his camping stuff six feet down. He waved at her when he was done, starting to get a little unnerved by her staring. 

She didn't look particularly like . . . anything. Ethnically ambiguous, not particularly pretty but not ugly either, and dressed modestly but not like she was purposely covering up. She just looked like . . . a regular girl. Nothing distinctive about her. 

That was honestly the unnerving part. 

Eventually she turned back and walked back to her house. 

That left Yamcha with the question on how she got back home, if her white van had been behind her house and the bicycle had been there too. As he made another round around the house, he saw with the binoculars that she also had a Capsule Corp hovercar. She . . . delivered pizza? That didn't add up. 

He didn't see any other weird activity during that whole weekend, so when he got back home, he felt like he had wasted his time. But he looked up online to see if he could figure out how Regan had gotten all that property, a boat, two vehicles, a nice shed, and a decent house while working a pizza delivery job. 

The internet claimed that Regan's father was actually a movie maker and had bought the spot in the woods for a film they had made, and when he died he gave her the property in his will. It happened to already have a lot of the stuff there, and everything was already paid off. She didn't have to worry about anything financially, aside from taxes. 

Krillin called the house later that Monday and asked how he was doing. 

"Regan's life is pretty boring, and there wasn't a murder this year. Maybe I was wrong." 

"Maybe. Kind of a good thing if you were, though, right? A serial killer is a really scary thing. Best not to have one." 

"Right.... You're right!" 

He shouldn't be disappointed that he was wrong. Sure, they were two very bloody, gruesome murders, but that didn't mean they had to be connected. It was just very, very unfortunate, especially for the family members and friends involved. 

Another week passed, and Yamcha was trying on his vampire costume for Halloween. Puar wore little bat wings. 

"You're looking great, Yamcha!" 

"Thanks, Puar!" 

The two of them sat around the house watching horror movies while waiting for trick-or-treaters to come by. The candy bowl sat right next to the front door. 

Around 10pm, the doorbell rang once more and Yamcha got up to get it. 

"Hello ther-!" 

He was met by a six-foot-tall figure with a mask that looked like it was right out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. And it held a chainsaw. 

It pulled the chord and revved the chainsaw to life. 

"Trick - or - treat!" the figure said in an oddly robotic voice. 

Yamcha slammed the door in front of him and let the door get the chainsaw instead of him, jumping back away from him. 

"HOLY SHIT!" 

"Yamcha!? What's going - AHHHH!" 

"Puar, call Krillin!" 

"On it! Oh my God, oh my God!" 

Puar flew into the other room to get the phone, and Yamcha jumped further back to get away from the door as the massive man ripped the chainsaw out of the door and threw his weight against it. The door fell to the ground, and the man stepped into the apartment. 

"Ka-me-ha-me-ha!" Yamcha shouted, and the energy blast hit the intruder right in the chest. It pushed the man back, but the man grabbed onto the door frame. The energy blast shot through his chest, and blood spurted onto the floor and walls. But as the energy faded away, Yamcha saw wires, not organs. 

"You're a robot!?" Yamcha backed further away, almost into the kitchenette. He could hear Puar on the phone, begging for Krillin to be there as soon as possible. He hoped Krillin was on duty. 

"Trick - or - treat! Trick - or - _treat_!" 

It sounded as though it was in pain, and Yamcha wasn't sure where the blood had come from if it wasn't a living person. The robot lumbered forward, reaching out with its chainsaw and swinging it to-and-fro. Yamcha focused on _not getting it by it_ but also keeping it from reaching Puar in the kitchen. 

They could hear the police sirens, which did bode well, but Yamcha wasn't sure what to do now. He had to disarm it somehow - that's it! 

"Spirit Ball!" 

Yamcha formed the ball of energy and controlled its movements. It went right through the robot's arm, making it drop the chainsaw. It fell straight down into the floor. 

Unfortunately, Yamcha lived on the third floor, so that was going to startle the neighbors below. The saw got stuck in the wood, though, and ended up staying in one place instead of falling into the room below. Thank God. 

After that, Yamcha knew what to do. 

"Wolf Fang Fist!" 

When he was done with it, the robot fell to the floor, unmoving, with a smashed in face. It was definitely wearing a mask, but whatever had been in the face had broken and seemed to be where some important wiring had been. 

Krillin and his coworkers showed up soon after and took their statements. They took the chainsaw and the robot in as evidence, and Krillin stayed behind with Yamcha and Puar even after his cop buddies had left. 

"Holy shit, Yamcha! Any idea why it came after you?" 

"It's possible Regan was wondering why I was hanging around her place and wanted me out of the way for trespassing with a camera." 

"Hot damn.... Well, I can go to her for questioning, but unless we can find evidence that she works with robots, we can't get a warrant. But I'll put that you had an encounter with her in the report and that she's a potential suspect for controlling the robot." 

"Thanks, Krillin." 

"I've gotta get to work, but you call one of the others to stay with you for the night, all right? Like, Tenshinhan or somebody." 

"I will. Thanks, buddy, I owe you." 

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad that you're okay!" 

Yamcha called Tenshinhan, and he agreed to come over with Chiaotzu. 

"I've never celebrated Halloween before, though. It's not really a thing out where we live." 

"Oh, man, you're gonna have fun! I'm sure I have a costume in my closet that'll fit, and we'll have popcorn and watch movies and hand candy out to kids, it'll be great." 

"Though, uh, why aren't you actually going to the police station for questioning?"

"I answered all their questions, and Krillin was in charge of the investigation so...." 

"Ah, I see. Special buddy treatment." 

"Ha ha, yeah, basically." 

"All right, I'll be right there. Though I don't know about wearing a costume." 

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" 

"We'll see. Later." 

"Bye." 

Yamcha then hung up and went to the bedroom part of the apartment. He opened the closet. 

And he saw Regan Loomis burst out and stab him with a needle. He gasped in pain, and whatever was in the needle took effect immediately. 

"Yamcha!" Puar shouted, and that was the last thing he was aware of. 

When he woke up, he was on what looked and felt like an operating table. He was chained to the surface of the table, and he pulled at the restraints. If he could muster up the strength, he'd be able to break free, but the effects of whatever Regan shot him up with was still lingering. But once it dissipated, he'd - 

Regan appeared in his line of sight. 

"Congratulations. You're the new experiment." 

Oh shit. 

Yamcha's eyes trailed to see that he was actually talking to the body-less head of Regan Loomis. 

Oh _shit_! 

Her body was holding her head up with its hands, and it looked like she was straight out of _Re-Animator_. 

Oh shit, oh shit, _oh shit_! 

"I see you dispatched my Frankenstein creation fairly easily. He wasn't fully robot, you see. I just used robotic parts to fill in the holes in my design. He was very much human, though previously dead. I suppose that makes you a murderer. So you'll appreciate becoming part of my experiments instead of going to prison." 

The logic in that was horrendous. 

"And what are you!?" 

"I suppose you'd call me a cyborg. Though the only human thing about me is this head." 

She walked around the operating table, and Yamcha looked down. He was still wearing his vampire costume, but he realized as she was moving that that _might_ be changing sometime soon. 

She set her head on the table, then her body moved around and came closer, its hands reaching for his pant fly. 

"First method of business is to get rid of unnecessary parts." 

_Oh shit, not this Outlast: Whistleblower shit!_

He broke his left arm free of its restraints and grabbed the robot's wrist, fighting with it in an attempt to get it away from his fly. One by one, he broke his other restraints and took the robot down. 

He heard breaking of wood elsewhere in the house above him. 

"Yamcha!?" Tenshinhan yelled. 

"DOWN HERE!" Yamcha screamed up at him, taking on the robot body. 

This robot wasn't as strong as the massive big one he had fought before, but he wasn't going to take any chances. 

"KA-ME-HA-ME-HAAAAAAAA!" 

The robot body was destroyed by the blast, and Yamcha sighed in relief that he still had all his body parts. 

"Well, shit." Regan said. 

The police came to Regan's house, Krillin among them once more. This time, Yamcha and Tenshinhan went to the police station to give their statements. After their statements were taken and Regan's head was placed in an isolated holding cell, Yamcha, Tenshinhan, and Krillin gathered around Krillin's desk and enjoyed the coffee he had available. 

"Man, I'm really sorry about that. We really shouldn't searched the house, I should've thought of that!" Krillin said. 

"Hey, don't sweat it. I'm just glad everyone's all right now," Yamcha said. 

"But if anything had happened to you - " Krillin started. 

"We wouldn't know what to do with ourselves. Had you not called me and I just been a little slower with my arrival, you could've been seriously - " 

"But I'm okay! You guys, I really appreciate you caring about me, but I'm okay now! There's nothing to worry about. Aside from making the best out of tonight. Krillin, is there any popcorn? I promised Tenshinhan at least that for his first Halloween." 

"His first - !? Well, shit, Tenshinhan!" 

Tenshinhan blushed. 

"Is it really that big a deal?"

"Big enough of one that I feel bad it had to be all about real-life serial killers!" Krillin said. 

Yamcha laughed a little. 

"It's all right. We can make it up to him next year." 

"Definitely!" 

The three of them continued to drink their coffee and talk for a while, until Yamcha and Tenshinhan were allowed to go home and Krillin clocked out to go check up on Marron and 18 (who had worn matching pirate costumes). 

Tenshinhan spent the night with Yamcha, as did Chiaotzu. The next morning, Puar made pancakes.

And Yamcha insisted Tenshinhan at least had to watch the Charlie Brown Halloween special that he had on VHS from when he was younger. 

"I don't get it. Why are they so mean to the bald one?" 

"Y'know, I don't really know." 

"But what's . . . trick-or-treating?" 

Yamcha thought he was joking. He wasn't.


End file.
